Better than Great--November 17, 2020
"Praise the LORD!
How good it is to sing praises to our God;
for he is gracious, and a song of praise is fitting.
The LORD builds up Jerusalem;
he gathers the outcasts of Israel.
He heals the brokenhearted,
and binds up their wounds.
He determines the number of stars;
he gives to all of them their names." [Psalm 147:1-4]
How truly awesome that the Maker of the universe, who names and counts the stars, doesn't send us and our troubles away because he's got "more important things to do", you know?
This is the audacious claim that the writers of Scripture make: that the same God who is mindful of the vast and infinite reaches of the cosmos is also mindful of us. Of you, in all of your you-ness. And of me, in all of my me-ness. Not just when we're polished and put together, either, but on the days when we are broken up inside and disheveled, when our shirt-tails are hanging out and we've been wiping our runny noses on our sleeves.
It says something truly beautiful about the God we meet in those Scriptures that God is never too busy or too proud to stoop with us and comfort us in our most difficult days. That's what makes the God of Abraham and Sarah worth praising. It's not just God's sheer power--but God's choice to be compassionate to us mortals who can't do a thing to pay God back in return. It's not just God's might, but God's mercy, that is worth singing a song about.
Think for a moment about how truly radical that is. The ancient empires that surrounded Israel all had their own pantheon of gods, and they all sang their praises and offered prayers to those gods and goddesses. And usually, those ancient songs of praise were focused on the power they imagined their gods to have. If you were an ancient Canaanite, you praised Ba'al for controlling the storms, the lightning, and the thunder. If you were an ancient Babylonian, you praised Marduk for being stronger than the chaos monster goddess Tiamat. If you were an ancient Egyptian, you praised the power of the sun-god Ra (and you praised Pharaoh, too, because the pharaohs claimed to be the living embodiment of the sun-god) which could scorch a parched field or bring crops to life. And if you were an ancient Roman, you praised Caesar himself as a god for his military might, imperial wealth, and the power he commanded that was conquering the known world.
Ancient Israel and Judah said something else about their God, Yahweh. Yes, the God of Israel was strong. Yes, their God was the almighty creator of the universe. But more noteworthy was that this God was not merely content to be strong--Yahweh was compassionate. Strength by itself wasn't enough to write a song about. It was God's love for the lowly, God's mercy for the marginalized, God's empathy for the at-risk, that inspired songs and hymns and praises. The ancient poets of Israel didn't simply praise Yahweh for being the biggest thing or strongest entity in the universe--they praised Yahweh because Yahweh was known to be compassionate for those whose hearts were broken and whose bodies were bruised. The psalmist doesn't just praise God for being "great" but for being deeply good. That makes all the difference.
In the end, I think what we usually think of as being "great" is overrated. Sheer strength, after all, can be used to both good or destructive purposes. The thing that makes God worthy of our praise isn't just God's mere muscle--it's the way God commits to sitting with the sorrowful and healing those who hurt.
It's an old adage that we become like the objects of our worship. Maybe it's no wonder then that the Babylonians, Romans, or Egyptians all gave in to becoming cruel and dominating empires--they all assumed their gods were important solely on account of their power and strength. But the people of Israel were supposed to be different, as are the followers of Jesus today, too. Greatness isn't enough for us--at least it shouldn't be. We are called to something better than the mere pursuit of what the world calls "great." We are called to be good in the ways God is good--care for the brokenhearted among us, love for the wounded, mercy for the empty-handed and powerless.
In a world full of folks who are obsessed with making themselves look "great," but who are often too busy for the likes of us ordinary people, what a difference it is to know we are invited to bare our broken hearts to the God who made the universe, but is never too busy for you. What a difference it makes to praise God, not just for being the biggest thing in the room, but for having the deepest love. What hope is to be found from the assurance that God isn't just powerful, but compassionate.
Singing praise to that sort of God--and then being shaped by that God's character--is going to leave a mark on us. We will become people who are more interested in being good than in looking "great." And we will become people whose choices arise from genuine love rather than a need to look powerful or impressive. And honestly, amid all the fakers, pretenders, and charlatans out there, I am longing to be made into someone who loves genuinely rather than putting on a show.
All praise to the God who gathers the outcasts of Israel--the God who is worthy of our songs because of God's love, more than just for brute force. May our whole lives be a lived hymn to such a God, who is great, because he is good.
Lord God, you are worthy of our praise because you are good. Let us praise you with lives shaped by your goodness to the lowly and the left out ones.
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